


Frail Memory

by ncfan



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Children, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-18 03:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18241454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: Leo still remembered the day Silas arrived at the Northern Fortress, though he might be the only one now who both remembered the meeting, and was willing to admit it.





	Frail Memory

It was, Leo would learn later, Xander’s idea. That hadn’t surprised him overmuch; this didn’t really feel like something Father would have done. Where Corrin was concerned, it didn’t feel like something Father would have done at all.

Xander was… concerned. It was important that Corrin remain in the Northern Fortress; that was what Father willed, and it was safer for Corrin away from the royal court. However, her brothers and sisters did not live at the Northern Fortress, and could only be near her when Xander and Camilla did not have their duties, and Leo and Elise did not have their lessons. There had been one or two exceptions to that, at least where Leo and Elise were concerned, but those had been tense enough times that Leo had no desire to endure them again. The only other children Corrin had constantly around her, while she treated them more as her playmates than her servants, were still her _servants_. The gulf was there, and it made its mark. Corrin had no children constantly nearby who were her peers, and that was leaving its mark as well, a mark that Xander misliked.

Corrin had passed ten summers by, now. She was more than old enough to start to be introduced to other children of the nobility. It would just take the right method.

The sky was a dismal, pewter gray when the boy arrived, the sort of sky that promised a storm punctuated with grumbling thunder later. Gunter called Corrin and Leo down to the outer courtyard nearby the main gate, called them down to meet the boy who had come to the Northern Fortress to serve as his squire.

Leo still remembered the moment so clearly years later, even when he was the only one who both remembered the meeting, and was willing to speak of it. Corrin had recently begun wearing a hairnet that fit snugly on the back of her head, held in place by what seemed like entirely too many pins up until the moment when it started to fall off, at which point too many pins suddenly became not enough. The hairnet served to keep her unruly black hair out of her face, at the expense of making it stick out everywhere else. Between Corrin’s hair and her billowing red skirt and her much greater height (oh, the difference a year and a growth spurt could make), it was easy for Leo to take up a position behind his sister and scrutinize the newcomer. Or, as an outside observer might have put it instead, it was easy for Leo to hide behind his sister and glare at the new boy.

The new boy was named Silas, though Leo and Corrin did not learn that from Silas himself. Gunter clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder and introduced him, while Silas himself stared at his feet and mumbled something that Leo couldn’t make out. He was thirteen years old, which left him three years Corrin’s senior and four years Leo’s, and he was so much taller than Leo that Leo had to crane his neck to look into his glum, downturned face.

Leo had never seen Silas before, which meant that the suspicion curdling hot and hard in his gut wasn’t quite as strong as it could have been. For Leo to never have seen the boy before meant that he hadn’t been raised at court, and that he likely wasn’t a courtier’s child. That was… good, he supposed. Still, the fact that Leo had never seen him before meant that he had no idea what he was like, beyond the fact that he clearly now no idea how to introduce himself properly to members of the royal family.

Surely, Corrin saw the need for wariness. It was a boy they had never met, a boy they knew nothing about; surely, Corrin understood the need for caution.

Leo edged out from behind Corrin’s skirt just as Gunter told them that Silas would be staying here at the Northern Fortress, and got to watch in dismay as her eyes lit up. It was at that point that Leo remembered how determined his big sister was to make friends out of every maid, scullion, groom, and guard in the castle. Of _course_ a noble boy wasn’t going to be exempted from that rule.

Fine. _Leo_ would just have to be her guard, today.

Being Corrin’s guard entailed a great deal of sitting behind her and glaring over her shoulder as she tried, with all the passion of a hurricane, to say something that would induce Silas to give her a reply. What books did he like to read? What were his favorite games? Did he like horses? What did he like to eat? Where was he from? What was it like outside of the Northern Fortress, and oh, could he tell her _everything_ about his home?

Such a storm of questions, and none of them saw an answer. If Silas meant to trick Corrin somehow, his plan didn’t seem to be to present himself as the perfect friend who shared all of her interests. He still presented himself as the glum, near-silent boy Leo had met down in the outer courtyard, one who for whatever reason didn’t seem to care that by his silence he risked courting a princess’s displeasure.

Of course, judging by the cagey looks Silas sent Leo’s way from time to time, Leo’s own efforts might have played some part in Silas’s continued silence. Well, he did try his best.

Leo’s newly-minted career of sister-guarder came to an abrupt end when he was called away to do a reading assignment his tutors had set for him to do while he was away from court. He shot one last warning look at Silas, mustering up all the menace a nine-year-old son of the king had to offer, the better for it to take.

It didn’t take.

It really, _really_ didn’t take.

Leo spent the rest of that particular visit to the Northern Fortress sulking in the library, reading every book he could fit into that timeframe while Corrin and the new boy— _Silas_ —chased each other down the drafty hallways, brandishing paper shields and swords. He stayed put right there, just _waiting_ for Corrin to come and find him, not budging except for the times Felicia pried him away from the books to take his place at the dining table or in bed. She never did; of _course_ she never did. She was too caught up in the novelty of having a new friend; she’d completely forgotten her brother, or so it felt like.

Jealous? Who said anything about Leo being _jealous_? Corrin was too quick to put her trust in others, and Leo was caught between the impulse to stay close by and make certain no ill came of it, and the impulse to just let her discover on her own why it was a bad idea to decide to trust someone right away. At least when Xander and Camilla ignored him, it was in favor of fussing over Corrin or doting on Elise. Now Corrin was doing it as well, but in favor of being totally absorbed by a complete _stranger_.

He was not jealous. He was just waiting for the inevitable betrayal.

When it came to be time for Leo to return to the royal court, he didn’t say goodbye to his sister. Corrin tried to say goodbye to him, but Leo didn’t respond, didn’t say goodbye or hug her or any of the other ways they typically parted. The look of surprised hurt on Corrin’s face as he climbed into the waiting carriage was one that would surface in Leo’s mind at odd moments, even years later. It liked to creep up on him. The guilt nagged at him, that childish thing he’d done to get back at his sister. Just one more thing to feel guilty over. Just one more thing it was impossible to ever apologize for, considering what would happen later.

Leo stewed over it a few days more once he was back at court, but he had much more to occupy him at court than he did in a place where his only family was ignoring him. The fact that Xander and Camilla weren’t adding any fuel to the fire, seemed not even to realize there was anything different about him, helped to keep him from dwelling on it overmuch. It was hard to hold that which seared his throat with unspoken words when there was nothing to encourage them to remain.

Oh, he remembered Silas again, though, remembered him in full the next time Leo went to the Northern Fortress. And hiding away in the library the whole time just wasn’t going to be an option, nowadays.

Xander had decided that Leo was old enough to start learning swordplay. Manhood was still a distant speck in the future, but he needed to already be capable with a sword by the time he was a man, the better to properly serve their father. Part of Leo was itching for the chance to prove himself. Part of Leo dreaded the idea of being held up against Xander’s shining example in this as well as with everything else he did. Every part of him detested the throbbing bruises and screaming muscles that come with training, and that was not something Leo could escape by journeying to the Northern Fortress, because Xander did not want Leo’s training stopping for any reason short of illness or injury.

Leo had never paid as much mind to Gunter’s fighting prowess as he ought to have. He was realizing now what a mistake that had been, when he went to the Northern Fortress and Gunter took over his training for the duration of his stay. Gunter was a decorated knight; Leo knew that much. And to be given the care of a princess, he must have been a man of spotless reputation, both on the battlefield and off of it. Leo had never seen the man fight, had never watched him train Corrin or Silas. He hadn’t been interested.

That lack of interest was coming back to haunt Leo, now. If he had ever watched, he might have realized two things about Gunter: that he was both enormously strong, and not at all inclined to go easy on his students.

Five seconds. That was how long Leo lasted before he found himself sprawled on his back with a wooden sword pointed at his throat. Sloppy, Gunter told him, and then instructed him to get up and try again. Just try to land a blow on him, any sort of blow.

Five seconds. The very idea stung. Corrin had lasted fifteen, and Silas twenty, before they too had found themselves knocked to the ground. Leo got to his feet, ignoring the ache in his shoulders in favor of the flames smoldering in his mind.

Six seconds.

Gunter shook his head, and next instructed his students to engage in sparring amongst themselves. Well, fine.  At least Leo was less likely to embarrass himself against another child.

The first match was Leo against Silas. That was… Well. Leo wasn’t exactly unhappy to hear it.

Silas wasn’t Xander’s regard. That much was immediately apparent when Leo went up against him. Silas wasn’t Xander’s equal, but then, no one was. Silas wasn’t Gunter’s equal, either, but then, Gunter did not seem like the sort of man who had too many peers, in terms of skill.

Leo might not have been paying as much attention to Gunter as he ought, but he had watched Xander train for years, and Silas was sloppy by comparison. Sloppy, inexpert, not the equal of Leo’s brother at all. Unfortunately, that sloppiness didn’t erase the fact that Silas was both much taller and much stronger than he was, and the bout ended with Leo landing hard on his back, his wooden sword flying out of his grip and landing several feet away with a clatter.

What happened next was something Leo hadn’t been prepared for. As he struggled up into a sitting position, scrubbing the sweat from his brow, Silas knelt down beside him, and offered him a smile.

“Don’t look so frustrated,” he said, clapping Leo on the back, which sent Leo lurching forward and saw him fixing Silas with a sharp stare. Not that Silas seemed to notice. “You’re doing better than Corrin with sparring; she’s too timid to actually try to hit someone.”

“I am not!” Corrin protested, though there was no real anger to be heard in her voice; there was a laugh lurking at the edges. “Quit feeding him lies!”

Silas laughed under his breath and offered Leo his hand. “ _Really_. You’re not doing bad at all, considering how new you are. You’ll get better if you just keep practicing.”

Leo stared at that proffered hand, face frozen. After a long moment, he took it.

There was… There was something Xander had told him about, the night before he first began training with a (practice, wooden) sword. When you cross swords with a training partner, it creates a bond between you and them. An inescapable bond, forged by the crucible of combat and bruises and hardening muscles. The more the pair trains together, the stronger the bond becomes. Xander expressed difficulty, when asked, to describe what the bond was. It wasn’t the bond between lovers, the bond between friends, the bond between family. It was something that simply sang in your mind and your heart, binding you to the person who heard the same tune.

The idea of such a bond existing and forming within Leo filled him with an emotion he could only identify as ambivalence. He had been bonded to his mother through blood, a bond that he couldn’t control and couldn’t break. (Not love, not love, _not love_.) He had no desire to endure such a bond again.

It was outside of his control, though, had to be if it was truly involuntary, and perhaps those involuntary bonds explained why, the more Leo trained with Silas, the less he kept expecting a knife in the back. The less he came to expect that inevitable betrayal. Or maybe it was the way Silas’s manner, honest and open and sometimes blunt, remained fixed, no matter what happened. He just… Leo didn’t think he was being deceptive. He’d watched Silas flub telling little fibs a couple of times, and he didn’t think Silas had the capacity to maintain such an elaborate deception.

Gradually, Leo found himself drawn into Corrin and Silas’s playing, less unwillingly every time. He still didn’t care much for play-fighting with paper swords, but arts and crafts was more interesting, especially when they were working in three dimensions. Leo tried to teach Corrin and Silas chess, and wound up shaking his head at how _bad_ at it they both were. Card games were something the three of them possessed roughly equal skill with, though if Corrin had her way, they’d wind up making card houses instead, as intricate as they could manage before they came tumbling down. And reading books together in the library was enjoyable, even if Corrin’s tastes ran more towards chivalric romance cycles and Silas’s towards epic poems than they did towards actual history.

Corrin still loved looking at maps as much as she did before Silas had first arrived. She spent almost as much time looking at maps as she spent staring out of high windows at the gray mountains and the windswept moors.

Soon, it had been a little over a year since Silas had been brought to the Northern Fortress, and he had very much become a fixture there. Leo was used to seeing him there, and he was almost to the point of admitting, openly, that he liked spending time with him. He was… Well, Leo supposed he was a friend.

Silas was always there.

Until he wasn’t.

Corrin had been very ill for the past month and a half, and Leo hadn’t been allowed to visit her. None of their siblings had been, actually; it wouldn’t do for all of the king’s heirs to come down with the same illness. Corrin had been very sick, but _finally_ , she had recovered enough that Leo was allowed to see her again.

Leo’s first thought upon seeing Corrin was that she _did_ look like someone who had been ill for a long while. She might have raced out onto the green to greet him as was her wont, but she listed a little from side to side as she ran, and by the time she reached him, Leo was putting his hands out, afraid she might fall. Corrin took that as an invitation for a hug, and she felt thinner than she ought under a dress that fit more loosely than it should.

Corrin beamed down at him. “Oh, look at you! You’re so much taller, now.”

Leo blinked. “I haven’t gotten _that_ much taller since last we saw each other.”

“Are you certain? You’re much taller than I remember.”

Leo nodded mutely. How… how sick had she been?

Corrin evinced no sign of noticing his discomfort. She shrugged and took his hand, leading him back towards the keep. She was talking about something, maybe the horses. Leo wasn’t paying attention to her; instead, he was casting his gaze about the green, squinting at the people he saw moving around in the distance.

Then, he asked where Silas was.

Corrin stopped dead in her tracks, let Leo’s hand slip out of her grasp. She stood very straight and very still, her back stiffer than he had ever seen it. Just as she looked over her shoulder at him, a sharp, cold gust of wind ripped across the outer courtyard. The wind caught in her loose hair, sending it billowing up around her face so that only her eyes were visible. Those eyes, those wide red eyes… In them, Leo saw stark confusion, and something bright beyond it that he thought he knew, but couldn’t put a name to.

“Who’s Silas?”

Leo frowned, feeling his own back start to stiffen. “Are you trying to play a prank? _Silas_ , Corrin. Your best friend, Silas.”

Corrin had turned to face him completely, but she was shaking her head, taking a step back. “I… I don’t know who that is, Leo. I’m sorry. Maybe it’s someone you met at court, and you’re just remembering wrong?”

“I’m not remembering wrong, Corrin. Have you two had a fight, or something? Are you just…” Leo rolled his arms, trying to beat down his own unease. “…Are you just pretending not to know him, until you two make up?”

Corrin shook her head again, took another step back. She fisted a hand in her hair, and the brightness in her eyes was something that Leo could now properly identify as fear. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The wind was stronger now, moaning over their heads while Corrin’s skirt quivered and her hair rippled. “Really, I don’t.” Her nostrils flared, a ragged breath escaping her mouth. “I’m sorry, I don’t know…”

“Corrin, it’s _Silas_. I know you’ve been ill, but—“

Corrin didn’t give him the chance to say anything more to her. She sprinted towards the keep, listing even more than before, and Leo stared after her, chewing on his lip while his stomach started to churn.

Gunter found him sometime later, and told him in no uncertain terms to never mention Silas’s name to Corrin again. His face was like the stone of the mountains, and Leo couldn’t find it in himself to look into this man’s eyes and object.

Corrin’s smile was bright and glassy when Leo found her again. Leo didn’t speak of their conversation down in the courtyard, and she didn’t ask. No one spoke of Silas. It was as if he had never been here at all.

Her smile never quite lost that glassy quality for the rest of his stay, and where Leo didn’t think he would have noticed it before, now, it made him... it made him uneasy.


End file.
